Tales of the Warden
by MelancholyAndBlithe
Summary: A collection of shorts and one shots that peek into the life of Viridia Surana, the Hero of Ferelden. (Not particularly in chronological order) Cullen x Warden Alistair x Warden
1. 1 - Company

Cullen was walking down the halls, on his way to the Chantry. He hadn't been down for a few days and figured it was high time he revisit his old haunt. It was late at night, past midnight, and most of the Circle had retired to their quarters for the night, making the hallways quiet. He passed a senior Templar on the way. They exchanged nods to one another, their pace constant. Almost there.

He rounded the corner, and entered the Chantry. The smells of incense and stone filled his senses. It was familiar. Safe. He loved it here. The Chantry was always a source of comfort for Cullen, even as a boy. The smallest of smiles stretched his lips as he walked further into the room.

There was a single other person there. A woman. Her hair was black and short, cut chin length, with wayward strands disobeying and standing out from her head. She wore mage robes and sat closer to the front of the Chantry, looking up at the visage of Andraste. He knew her even from the back of her head. He slowed his pace. The sounds of his boots as he entered made her turn in surprise.

Maker, she was beautiful.

Her almond eyes, bright green, were wide and fixed on him. Soft, rounded oval lips were slightly parted. Her skin was pale from too much time inside over the years.

"Cullen." She breathed a sigh of relief. Her posture relaxed as she registered who he was. "You scared me. I thought you were someone else." She shifted, adjusting her seat on the pew.

"Who-who did you think I was?"

"Any other Templar, really. No one is supposed to be outside their quarters." Viridia replied sheepishly.

"The Chantry should always be an exception." He offered, trying to show her he wouldn't report her to anyone for being there in his own way.

"You're right. It should." She nodded, smiling up at him. There was a beat before she turned her gaze back to the statue of Andraste at the front of the room, her hands folded on her lap. "This place is so peaceful. Quiet."

"It is." He agreed and looked at the statue himself. Candles danced on the surface of the statue and lit up Andraste's face in a haunting, yet ethereal way. There was a pause in the air. It was heavy with almost complete silence, but not uncomfortable.

"You should sit with me." She offered. His head snapped down to her. She was looking back at him, her green eyes fixed on his own. He felt his neck and cheeks heat up just at the thought. She looked so earnest. A little hopeful, even. Tired too. Poor woman. He gulped and tried to find something to say.

He didn't want to tell her no, but he didn't think it'd be wise if he did. He opened his mouth to speak, uncomfortably breaking eye contact for a moment.

"I don't think-"

"Just a little bit. You don't have to sit right on my hip. Just...near." He hesitated, but resumed eye contact. It was forbidden for Templars and mages to have much of any interaction that wasn't absolutely mandatory, or permitted by the Chantry or the Order itself. What if they were caught? What if someone saw them?

"I've felt rather lonely lately. It'd be nice to have someone else to talk to. Even for a little while." That pulled harshly at his heartstrings. Her face. Her features contorted. She seemed so sad and genuine. Viridia wasn't good at hiding her emotions, it seems. He felt for her. It could get really lonely here in the Circle. He missed his sisters and brother terribly. Only difference was that he could still see them if the Order permitted it, more likely down the line. She couldn't. She'd never see her family again. He wanted to give her some kind of comfort if he could. He took a deep breath and sat down on her pew, almost a good two peoples' sitting distance between them. "Thank you." She said, her voice low and barely above a whisper, but she sounded grateful. Happier.

There was another pause. Viridia turned her gaze back to the statue, preferring to stay quiet at the moment. Slowly, the smile began to fade from her face. Why was she here at this hour? He'd never seen her in the Chantry before tonight. He didn't figure her the religious sort.

"Um...If you don't mind my asking, why are you here so late at night?" He asked, tentatively testing the waters. Her lips quirked.

"I come here when I miss my family." She answered.

"Oh. I-I see." Nicely done, Cullen. He chastised himself.

"Don't feel bad. I still hear from my older brother at least. He still writes. He idolizes the Templars." She added. Cullen felt himself ease a bit. She looked from the statue and focused on him once more. A genuine smile adorned her face, showing healthy white teeth. He felt his heart stutter. "He wants to be one someday. He hopes to be the first elf in the Order." She let out a nervous laugh. "It's a far shot, but stranger things have happened, right?"

There was another pause. She grabbed the pendant from her neck and fiddled with it. It was green and smooth, in the shape of a perfect sphere. It caught the light of candles in the Chantry perfectly.

"That's a lovely necklace." He said. Her eyebrows rose slightly before she looked down at it and smiled yet again.

"Thank you. It's Veridium. It's what I'm named after." She responded.

"Really?" He asked, eyebrows raised slightly. She nodded, and the tips of her ears were dusted a light shade of pink.

"I remember my mother telling me that when I was born, I had the most striking green eyes. They reminded her of Veridium ore. So that's what she named me after. Viridia. My brother sent me this for my thirteenth birthday." He returned her smile. She frowned a bit before turning her gaze downward, towards her shoes. "I'm sorry. I've been talking your ear off. You must have come here for peace and I'm ruining it."

"No. You aren't ruining anything." He said immediately. "You could...never..." He trailed off. He shouldn't finish that. His feelings were foolish and nothing could come of them, but that didn't mean he wanted to see her upset. She did nothing wrong. She shouldn't feel guilty. She turned her head back up to look at him. She seemed grateful. She released her hold on her necklace and placed her hand on the pew, slightly outstretched. He found himself mimicking the gesture.

There wasn't much space between their hands. All it would take was one of the two of them sliding closer and that would be that. He wondered if her hands were warm, or cold. He wanted to close the distance so much. He could feel his heartbeat increase, his face warming again.

"Thank you for staying here. I know you could get in a lot of trouble if you were caught. But...I really needed someone to talk to. To spend a little time with. It may seem small, but this means a lot to me." She said. Her ears drooped a little, sadness flickering in her eyes, as she kept that smile. "I just...I wanted you to know that."

Cullen opened his mouth to reply, only to be cut off by the telltale sound of Templar footfalls down the halls. His head snapped to the doorway. From the sounds of the steps, it wouldn't be long at all before they were in eyesight. He turned back to Viridia only to discover she wasn't there. He turned around, facing the door once more. She moved quickly, that was for sure. She was near the door frame now, ready to leave. She paused near the threshold, opting to hide by the doors until the footsteps passed. Once they did, she turned her attention back to him and waved, another genuine smile on her lips before she darted out the door in the opposite direction of his fellow Templars.

Cullen sighed and turned back to the front of the Chantry. His eyes suddenly felt heavy as he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as he folded his hands and looked back up at the statue. That was the most conversation he'd ever had with Viridia. He hoped it would happen again, despite everything telling him it was a terrible idea. He knew the law. His feelings for her were foolish. Selfish. Downright stupid, some might say. It could never happen, the two of them. The thought saddened him more than it should've. It was puppy love, or so he reasoned.

He wanted to help her more, like he did tonight. Just because nothing would happen between them didn't mean he couldn't try to be there for her. She really did seem lonely, and there was no law against being a decent person to someone in need. Studying the statue, he felt more at peace and a small smile stretched his lips as a thought crossed his mind.

Perhaps he was put here at this tower to help her? Maybe he was supposed to offer support if he could? He definitely wanted to make sure he tried just in case. He would rather be a good person for another good person.

With that, he licked his lips and bowed his head, starting his prayers.

* * *

**A/N: **

I found my old tablet that I used to write on and I found about seven of these little stories about my mage elf Warden, Viridia and couldn't resist dusting them off, tweaking them a bit, finishing in some cases, and posting. They're going to go up as I have a chance to sit down and finish them. I hope you like little Viridia. She wasn't the Warden I first finished the game with, but she's one of my favorites that I made, for sure. She's sweet and holds a special place in my heart.

I'd like to take a minute to thank the readers. Whomever you are, thank you for taking time out of your day to read this. I appreciate it. :)


	2. 2 - Fitting

Viridia sorely wished she was anywhere else. There were two windows in the room, letting in sunlight from the early day into the area. A soft breeze trickled in through both openings. Viridia inhaled deeply, relishing the fresh scent. She stood on a small stool in her smallclothes, arms spread out as she waited. The elderly woman next to her grumbled, taking Viridia from her reverie. The elderly woman had only been there a few minutes and she'd already managed to make Vylie feel uncomfortable.

"You don't eat enough." The woman said, flicking her willowy fingers against a rib bone, as if trying to make her ribs retreat further into her body. Viridia frowned and looked at the old woman.

"My eating habits are just fine." Viridia stared the woman down sternly. The woman scoffed and shook her head, measuring more of her with the tape.

"Not fine enough." Her accent was thick. Orlesian? Rivaini? It definitely wasn't Fereldan, that was for sure.

Viridia hated this part of living in the circle among many others. Once every so often, the Circle hired tailors to pay visits to measure the apprentices and mages for robes. They'd measure all the mages there, young and old, then head to wherever they were from and get to work, sending back well made garments. Most of the mages loved this. Brand new robes when old ones were too worn or small were as good a present as much anyone would ever get here, after all. However, getting fitted for new robes when the old ones no longer fit was always a chore for Viridia. She wasn't as curvy as the human females. They fit into their robes in all the right places, and looked like they belonged in their attire. Viridia was of typical elven build. She was short and sylphlike. Apparently too much so. She squirmed as the old woman finished her measurements.

"Haven't grown much since I last saw you." She commented, writing numbers down on a blank piece of vellum. "You'll have your new robes within a month." The tailor's voice sounded bored. She must be. Viridia imagined she'd have to do this at least a dozen more times by herself before she and her fellow seamstresses would be released to continue their work...wherever it is they're from. The woman dismissed herself after that, leaving Viridia to step off the stool and redress without preamble. Her old robes weren't fit for her anymore. They were singed from the fireball incident that caused her to lose a lot of her hair, dirty, and too short to be considered standard and appropriate anyway. Because her robes were no longer suitable, she slipped on a long night shift and was content to leave it at that. She unconsciously grabbed the veridium spherical pendant adorning her neck and twisted it between her fingers as she walked to the nearest window.

Outside was beautiful. Spring had barely begun in Ferelden. The lake shimmered, and the area was lush and green. Rams grazed nearby and trees stood tall and proud. Viridia felt a twinge of sadness and dare say it, homesickness. She faintly remembered a time where she could roam freely. Where she and her older brother could play in the open before coming in to a loving mother and father and a warm meal. She remembered Redcliffe and the villagers and the sounds and smells of civilization.

Those days were long gone now.

She could only hope her harrowing would come soon. The sooner she could climb up the ladder in the Circle, the closer she was to taste more of the outside world. If she became an accomplished enough mage, she would be granted more leave to go places and help where matters of magic were needed if she could. One could only dream.

Or she could escape.

She leaned her chin onto the palm of her hand, propped up on the windowsil by her elbow and let out a horse-like sigh through closed lips as she studied the landscape outside the Circle. It's not like she hadn't thought about it before. But where could she go? Back home? Her parents had all but made a clean cut of communications with her after her powers manifested. The only family she really had anymore was her brother. From his letters, it sounded like he was getting ready to set out on his own. She didn't want to burden her newly free brother with an apostate sister. Plus, she could always be tracked unless she got to her phylactery. Realistically, there was slim chance of her having a life outside of the circle's confinement. A heavy, sad sigh escaped her nose. This was a reality she had to accept time and time again as the years went by.

As much as she detested the idea.

She turned away from the window, a painful pang of longing overtaking her. She decided study would be the best distraction and went to her books, practicing to work towards her goal.


	3. 3 - Hair

Viridia pouted at the mirror. The loss of most of her hair was something she never thought she'd have to cope with. She didn't lose all of it, but might as well have. What was formerly a straight bolt of black locks reaching her waist was now a short chin length cut. Bangs were fashioned out of the remaining hair as well, covering her forehead. She picked up a small strand of it and let it fall back down against her head, displeased with just how short it was now. Her head felt too light. She scowled at her reflection, worrying her lip between her teeth.

Stupid apprentice.

-

The accident happened that morning. Viridia had been speaking with a fellow female mage about techniques with lightning spells. They each had a couple books and were walking past the training area where a Senior Enchanter was teaching a group of apprentices the ways of fire manipulation. Her back was turned to them, but she could hear their words, clear as day. She must've heard those words every year at least once.

"Focus. Magic is a manifestation of your will. You will never control the flames unless you will them to obey. Your focus could mean the difference between you living, and burning to death." The Senior Enchanter instructed, his voice level and every bit the tone a teacher should have.

"Burning to death?" The apprentice gasped. Viridia turned, and spared a glance at the class. Most of them were kids, or young teenagers. She was there once and she hoped they learned the ropes well enough.

"Reliving memories?" Her friend joked, to which Viridia nodded, turning back to them to continue their conversation. They rambled on, walking at a slower pace than before. It was only a moment later that the area began stirring with commotion.

"Apprentice! Cease that at once!" The Senior Enchanter barked.

"I-I can't! It won't go out! Help me!" The apprentice panicked. Viridia frowned and turned to face the class and sure enough, a young man had a large plume of flame in his hands, eyes wide in fear as the spell would fluctuate in size.

"Remain calm, alright? Remember, focus." The Enchanter tried to coax the apprentice down. Viridia's friend gently brushed her shoulder with hers and nodded her head to the door, urging them to leave and quickly. Viridia nodded, deciding it was best to let the experienced Senior Enchanter handle the situation. The nearby Templars had a foot stepped forward, hands on their pommels, seemingly getting ready to strike him down if they needed to.

Viridia didn't see the apprentice panic yet again and tried to throw the flame somewhere else, anywhere.

And he did. Right at Viridia.

Her friend noticed before she did and pulled Viridia out of the way, but too late to save her hair, which was burned off unevenly in the wake of the blast landing on the bookshelf nearby, books with flames licking off the covers, the smell of burnt leather and wood from the shelf filling the area. Viridia's back felt hot and she realized her robes got singed as well.

Her friend gasped, looking her over to make sure everything was alright. A few other mages and a Templar came over to check on her to make sure nothing too substantial was harmed. Viridia's heart raced as the few people gathered around her. She barely registered the apprentice being admonished, taken away by a pair of Templars and the Enchanter. Her back was uncomfortably warm and she could feel a breeze where there wasn't one before.

"Oh Maker." Her friend spoke softly. "Your robes are ruined. And your hair-"

Viridia's eyes widened as she scrambled to get a handful of her hair. It was burnt and disfigured and less than half the length it had been that morning. Her breath caught in her throat. Her hair. Her crown. Viridia was a pretty girl, but she always had a special place in her heart for her hair. Most women did, even at the Circle. Mages weren't allowed many luxuries, as a whole, but mage women would keep their hair as neat and healthy as possible and would often teach each other new tricks to making it look nice and styling it.

And Viridia had just lost hers.

-

Now, she sat in front of the vanity, looking at the reflection with disdain. They did a well enough job making the remaining locks sit nicely on her head, but it wasn't the same as her former mane. She sighed and stood up. Dinner would be served soon and she wanted to get there early enough to get her food, eat, then disappear and practice some new techniques.

The halls were quiet, which was somewhat unusual. There was usually one or two mages in the halls, but not this time. She made the familiar trip through the tower until she ran into a familiar face, and she felt a little better for it.

"Cullen." She greeted. Hopefully a little chat would cheer her up. He turned his head to her, eyebrows perked before a gentle smile spread his lips.

"Ah. Hello." He returned the greeting. He studied her a moment before he spoke again. "Your hair is different. I mean, it's not bad, I just noticed it looked different. Shorter." He tripped over his words a bit. She frowned at that and nodded.

"Apprentice almost smacked me in the back with a fireball. I lost a lot of it, I'm afraid." His features shifted.

"I'm sorry." His voice was soft. Comforting. She managed a small smile. There was another pause before he spoke again. "For what it's worth, it looks nice." Her smile grew. "You ah-you pull it off well."

"Thank you, Cullen. That means a lot." She bowed slightly to him before she took her leave. "I'll see you later?" She offered, walking past. She didn't want him to get into trouble and any minute now, a Templar could be traipsing down the halls. She would miss her hair, for sure, but the smile never left her face as she continued her journey to the mess hall.


End file.
